TOKYO -- If you travel here in the spring, don't miss the spectacular cherry blossoms -- or a more elusive, yet equally enchanting, attraction: The local craft beers.

The latter is a relatively recent phenomenon in Japan. Throughout this island nation, beer is as common as sand at Mission Beach, outselling sake and all other alcoholic beverages. The stuff is everywhere and, while a pint can run 800 to 900 yen ($8.50-$9.50), happy hour specials drop the price to as low as 180 yen ($1.90).

But most of these are the mass-produced brews from Kirin, Sapporo and Asahi. For something with more character and flavor, hunt down the city's few -- but ever-increasing -- temples to craft beer.

One invaluable guide to these outposts is The Japan Beer Times, a Yokohama-based publication led by a craft-savvy expat, Ry Beville. The ads are just as informative as the stories, and I followed one of the former -- and Google's map function -- to Craftheads, a pleasant, smoke-free tavern in the Shibuya district. I wasn't the first San Diegan to make this pilgrimage. The shelves contained growlers from Pizza Port, while the walls were papered with flyers from previous events devoted to Green Flash and Stone.

I ordered a small (600 yen) House IPA from Shiga Kogen, one of Japan's leading craft brewers. This was a West Coast-like brew -- a Pacific Rim IPA? -- with orange and lemon notes, crisp hop bitterness and a dab of butterscotch on the finish. The draft list was especially strong on American crafts, from Victory Golden Monkey to Lagunitas Little Sumpin', but I stuck with the locals. After savoring the last of my IPA, I turned to Kyara from Coedo. Kyara is billed as a "hoppy lager" and the beer had a lager's smoothness and a pale ale's bite.

Another night, I wandered around central Tokyo's Shimbashi station until stumbling upon Dry-Dock, a six-year-old tavern that touts "well conditioned beer with food to match." This cramped place overflows with good beer and convivial people. Soon, I was immersed in conversation with Tomoko Sonoda -- one of Japan's few female brewmasters, at Chiba's award-winning Harvestmoon brewery -- and Yukio and Yoshitoyo Inagaki, father-and-son beer fans. I enjoyed a roasty, creamy imperial stout from Daisen G., while others in the nautically-themed bar hoisted bottles of Anchor Porter and Friendship Ale, the collaboration between Green Flash and Belgium's St. Feuillien.

After draining his mug, Yukio Inagaki swept up a few companions for an expedition into Shimbashi's crowded streets. With the assurance of a native, he led us to Bierreise '98, one of two places in Tokyo to dispense a special version of Asahi Super Dry. Normally a bland brew, it had more taste and character here -- or perhaps I was carried along by Inagaki-san's infectious enthusiasm and bonhomie.

As is true around the world, Belgian beers have passionate fans here. In the Ginza, Brasserie Antwerp "Six" Cafe is a spacious and cheerful spot with good food and a broad -- though pricey -- selection of imports. My bottle of Rodenbach cost 1,300 yen, but that tart red ale enlivened the mussels and frites I shared with two Japanese journalists. Paying the bill, I was reminded of a saying I'd first encountered at O'Brien's Pub in Kearny Mesa: